


when you're near (there's such an air of spring about it)

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Comfort Food, F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8503363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: Daisy and Coulson have dinner in a shabby motel room.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



> Written for Persiflage's birthday! ♥ She prompted me to write something fluffy including couch cuddles and comfort food. I hope it turned out fluffy enough :)

It’s no use, they’re stuck in a not too compelling neighbourhood for the night. (Again.) Sure, they’ve both had worse, but even camping when the tent is soaked seems more tempting then spending the night in this half-abandoned, shady motel. It feels like something straight out of that one disgusting Coen film Daisy saw far too early (with the screenwriter in it). 

He addresses the deplorable state of the double room first. „It’s like from _The Shining_. Creepy.“  
„Ugh, yeah. I was thinking more like Coen brothers though.“  
„Oh, I know – _Barton Fink_ , right?“  
She makes a _face_. „Yep. That’s the one.“  
„Never liked their movies.“  
She chuckles, because it’s a lot like Coulson not to like this type of movies. „Me neither.“

After checking the (sadly empty) fridge, she drops onto the couch, turns on the TV. The only thing even remotely acceptable to be found is a documentary about tadpoles, which, no thank you.  
„How long are we going to need to stay here?“  
He rubs his five o’clock shadow, and when he makes eye contact, Daisy almost flinches because she’s been looking him so intently (she’s not one to stare, okay).  
„Two days, at least.“

She struggles to find a somewhat comfortable position (the couch feels just like a freaking pile of firewood) when her stomach growls. Loudly.  
She can almost hear Coulson smirk. „At least we have a microwave. You wanna go to the supermarket?“  
The prospect of food makes her turn around. „At 2 a.m., though?“  
„There’s a tiny 24-hour market around the block.“  
In one swift movement, she’s up and putting on her jacket. „On your six.“

They pick up some mac and cheese for the microwave. Coulson adding some spices and vegetables to their basket makes her smile. Daisy grabs some paper plates and picnic forks, and a bottle of red wine that at least looks like it might not give them a horrible headache, and they walk back to the motel. As soon as they enter the room, Coulson walks off with their groceries, opens the cheap wine and pours it into their toothbrush glasses so it can breathe a little, and it feels like she’s only just taken off her shoes and jacket when she hears the microwave. He’s cutting the fresh vegetables on the couch table with his pocket knife. 

Mere minutes later, everything’s ready and they settle down on this abomination of a couch, turning towards each other and pulling their legs up so sitting becomes a little more comfortable. For a while, they just eat in silence, with the exception of Daisy saying something nice about the meal, because this really doesn’t taste the way this cheap brand usually tastes (seriously, she would know), thanks to Coulson adding all sorts of herbs and stuff to it. The wine goes with it surprisingly well, she’s pretty sure she’s just seen him flinch a little tasting it, but hey, given the price, it’s pretty okay. 

“Sorry, can I just – My leg’s gone to sleep.” He’s rubbing his calf.  
She changes her position a little so he can stretch his leg. “Sure.”  
After a while, she extends one of her legs, too, making their legs sort of interlock a little (there’s nothing behind it, okay, this damn couch is just too small).

Coulson refills their glasses after they’ve finished eating, and all of a sudden, she becomes aware of how incredibly peaceful this feels, so peaceful in fact that she hasn’t been thinking about it all evening. After a little while, Coulson starts talking, carefully at first, as if to make sure she’s up for conversation. Since she’s smiling at him, he’s getting more and more excited talking about movies, and it really makes her want to go the cinema with him. Judging from the way his eyes are smiling right now, she imagines him to be the perfect companion for a movie night.

While talking, they’ve been shifting all the time. Daisy’s back already hurts a little, but this is so worth it. Of course, the wine might have been helping a little bit, but she can’t remember having felt this comfortable in someone’s company in ages. Eventually, she ends up resting her head against his knee, and to her surprise, after a moment of hesitation, Coulson’s hand rests against her head, light enough to not feel intrusive, but noticeable enough for the gesture to be understood. She almost wants to turn her head to look at him but just smiles, her cheek lightly pressing against his leg.

She sighs. “I wish I didn’t have to move.”  
“You ... don’t have to.”  
“If I fall asleep on this brick of a couch, I’ll be begging you to shoot me in the morning.”  
“Fair point.”  
She painfully sits up, moves her head from side to side to relax her vertebrae a little, then goes to brush her teeth. Coulson clears the couch table, downs what little is left of the red wine in the bottle. When she’s done, he goes to the bathroom, smiling at her somewhat shyly as their paths cross.

Coulson returns just as she’s removing her bra from under her shirt. He looks flustered. “Sorry.”  
(She can’t deny she’s a little embarrassed, but it’s not like she’s stripping.) “That’s okay. I just don’t really want to change right now.”  
It earns her a shy nod. “Yeah. Going to sleep in these sweatpants too.”  
Admittedly, it’s a little awkward when he’s climbing into the bed, even though this is by far not the first time they’ve shared a bed. Maybe that’s from the wine, too, but after he’s turned off the light, she feels almost too aware of his presence, his body next to hers. It’s like she can’t just hear him breathe, she feels it, too.

He seems to have picked up on it, because his voice sounds a little insecure. “Good night.”  
“Good night, Coulson.”  
She turns around to the left, facing away from him, resting her cheek against her palm. Coulson doesn’t move; she can hear him purposefully drawing long, calm breaths the way he does when he’s asleep. A moment passes, then she swiftly turns back, then, after a moment of hesitation and cold sweat, puts her hand on his chest. (God, his heart is beating fast enough.) Carefully, he covers her hand with his, squeezing a little. 

Her own heart beating in her throat, she scoots a little closer, then bends over to kiss him. It’s dark, so her lips find the corner of his lips. He freezes; and after a beat, she withdraws. “Sorry.”  
He lets out a large breath that he must have been holding. “No.”  
In the dark, he pulls her closer by her hand, carefully, as if to check if she’s okay with it – closer and closer, until he can feel her face almost touching his. He’s breathing more heavily now, as is she (after all, it’s been a while since Daisy’s been this close to anyone, let alone voluntarily). 

It’s like he doesn’t dare to close the tiny distance remaining between them; it feels like he wants her to take this last step, like he needs her to confirm that this – that _he_ is, in fact, what she wants.  
She moves closer when she realizes, slowly, until their noses touch and he can feel her smile against his lips, before she kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think :)
> 
> The title is, once again, from _Everytime We Say Goodbye_ as sung by Ella Fitzgerald, for example.


End file.
